


Accidental Roommates

by enjoy_acne



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Friendship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Romantic Comedy, Swearing, accidental roommates au, same age!Hartwin, though still set in the Kingsman Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 16,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjoy_acne/pseuds/enjoy_acne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was relatively sure that a man in a towel wasn't suppose to come with your first mortgage.  </p><p>This is a story of Harry and Eggsy's bizarre university years, living together and apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry’s day had gone as expected.  He had bid the Hart household goodbye.  He had received the key to his new home in Oxford.  He packed his car with a handful of personal possessions and an almost comical amount of clothing before finally embarking on his appallingly dull two hour drive.

 

Harry idly wondered if this was a sign of how truly boring his university years were going to be.

 

He slotted the key into the keyhole and pushed the door to his new home open, immediately spotting a worn duffel bag at the side of the door.  Harry frowned, crouching down to inspect the bag closer for a luggage tag.  

 

“Eggsy Unwin,” he read aloud.  He tilted his head, confused.  “Who on Earth is that-?”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck!”

 

Harry nearly dropped to the ground in shock.

 

A man stood atop his staircase.  

 

Soaking wet.

 

And near-naked if not for a strategically placed towel.

 

Harry didn’t know whether to avert his eyes or throw the nearby lamp and claim self-defence.  He did neither.  “I don’t suppose you’re here to rob me?” he tried tentatively.

 

It was apparently the wrong thing to say judging by the angry shade of red the stranger’s chest, neck and face had turned.  Not that Harry was deliberately staring, of course.  

 

“Get fucked!” the man replied with what was probably meant to be vehemence, but was significantly less intimidating given his state of undress.  “I live here.”

 

Harry blinked.  “What,” he bleated helplessly.

 

“I live here, you rich prat,” the man spat as he re-adjusted his towel.  “And Christ, if you’re going to fucking case the joint, at least close the fucking door!”

 

He shut the door a little too obediently for his liking while he attempted to scrape two brain cells together.  “But  _I_  live here,” he tried, picking himself from up the floor, house keys deliberately jingling in hand.  “I’m not ‘casing the joint’, I have a _key_.”

 

The stranger seemed to consider that.  “They didn’t tell me I had roommate in the rental agreement.”

 

“They didn't tell me I had a roommate when I  _bought_ the house.”

 

The other man was carefully blank for the moment.  “Well, fuck.” 

 

\---

 

Harry wasn’t sure how long he was staring at his so-called half-naked ‘roommate’, until his British sensibilities kicked in.  “Could… Could you please put on some clothes?”

 

The man glanced downwards as if finally remembering that he was, in fact, nearly naked. “Oh, right.”

 

Harry awkwardly stared at his shoes and at the carpet and tried not to fidget.  “We’ve established that neither of us is here to rob the other, after all.”

 

He sighed.  “Well, this is a first.”

 

Harry was even more confused, which he didn’t think was possible at this point.  “First time you’ve thought someone was robbing you, but wasn’t?”

 

“Nah,” he muttered with a flippant wave and the towel dropped a little further down.  “First time anyone’s ever asked me to put clothes on, I think.”

 

Harry felt his face burn, but he could hear the other man pad over to the bathroom and shut the door. He let out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and scrambled for his bag for the deed to what he hoped was still his house.

 

\---

 

They were both sat at the dining table with two very different contracts before them. 

 

Harry watched as yet another distracting drop of water drop from the other man’s hair and onto the rental agreement he was trying to read for the third time. He wiped the pesky drop away and continued to read. “I’m Harry, by the way.”  He glanced at the name printed at foot of the rental agreement.  “So, Gary Unwin, right?”

 

“Call me Eggsy,” the other man corrected, his forearms crossed and pressed comfortably against the table.

 

“Eggsy,” he repeated.

 

Harry couldn’t help but observe that Eggsy had hastily put his clothing on over his wet skin and that his t-shirt now clung onto him for dear life.

 

Harry read over the documents again.

 

“So, did we both get scammed or what?” asked Eggsy.

 

Harry sighed. “No, but I would say that our real estate agent made a mistake.” He tapped his finger against the dates of both documents. “I had bought the house first, but you signed on as a tenant just the day after.”

 

 _Good lord, he must work out every day to look like that._   Harry had no idea of why his brain was leading him astray.

 

Eggsy frowned. “Which means what?”

 

 _It means that you’re appallingly fit_ , thought Harry.

 

Harry needed his brain to shut up.

 

“I suppose it would mean that I’m-” He stopped, realising.

 

 _I’m your landlord_ , his mind finished.

 

Harry winced internally. He had an odd feeling that Eggsy would be defensive if he claimed that so soon after inadvertently implying he was a robbing his new home. He rephrased. “I suppose it means you’re my first tenant?”

 

“Making you my landlord.”

 

_And he sounds defensive anyway. So much for that._

 

“Only if you’re amenable,” he added. “You don’t know me, after all. I could have committed terrible atrocities in a church for all you know.” Harry was experiencing his first and only case of word vomit to date.  He had a terrible feeling that this was going to happen often all of a sudden.  “But I haven’t. Really, I haven’t.”

 

Eggsy looked more unimpressed than alarmed. “ _Atrocities in a church_. Bit much, innit?

”

Harry shrugged, feigning indifference.

 

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

 

“What gave it away?”

 

To Harry’s surprise, Eggsy laughed and stood up.  “Well, I guess that settles that then.”

 

“What does?”

 

Eggsy dragged his rental agreement from off the table.   “I’ll be outta your hair tomorrow morning.  D’you mind if I stay the night though?”

 

Harry frowned.  “Wait-“

 

“Just work out how much a day’s rent is and I’ll pay you for that.”  The rental agreement was skimmed off the table as Eggsy made a move to just walk out of Harry’s life undoubtedly _forever_ –

 

Harry took hold of the rental agreement and Eggsy stopped walking. 

 

“I’m not kicking you out,” Harry suddenly blurted, far louder than he had intended to.

 

Eggsy turned around, mildly startled.  “I know, I said I’d stay the night-“

 

“You can stay as long as you want.”  Harry really hoped he sounded flippant.  Flippant was surely better than sounding like a complete and total idiot.

 

Eggsy appeared more annoyed than appropriately creeped out.  Harry was unsure of which was worse.  

 

“I’m not some charity case.”

 

“It’s not charity if you’re paying rent.”  Harry gestured to the crinkled document in Eggsy’s hand.  “Just pay whatever you originally agreed to.  We’ll split bills.”

 

Eggsy was silent for the moment, casting a wary look over at Harry as if weighing his options.  “You don’t know nothing about me either.  For all you know, I could’ve also committed terrible atrocities.”

 

“In a church?”

 

“Secret underground bunker.”

 

“Well, we’re fine then.”

 

Eggsy snorted.  “You’re mental.”

 

“Probably.”  Harry flickered his eyes over the agreement they both clutched from opposite ends.  “Deal, then?”

 

Eggsy didn’t say anything at first and Harry willed his heart to stop beating so embarrassingly loud.  He almost took the insane idea back when –

 

“Deal,” replied Eggsy. 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry had learned overnight that both he and Eggsy were enrolled at the same university.

So far, that seemed to be the only thing they had in common.

 

“What the fuck - are you going to a job interview?”

 

Harry froze in the doorway, glancing down self-consciously at his oxfords, chinos, white button down, tie and cardigan. He glanced back up. “No?”

 

Eggsy dropped his spoon into his bowl of cereal. “You literally look like an old man.”

 

They hadn’t even made it twenty-four hours and Harry was already insulted.

 

“Well, you look like a - a, uh…” His eyes darted from Eggsy’s baseball cap, hoodie and winged shoes. “You just look confusing.”

 

Eggsy snorted. “ _I_ look my age.   _You_ look like you’re a week away from needing a walker.”

 

Harry huffed and pushed up his glasses and reached for his briefcase and umbrella and –

Eggsy might have had a point.

 

He continued eating his cereal. “Just take the tie off.”

 

Harry really liked the tie but he took it off in spite of himself. “Better?”

 

“Unbutton the top two buttons.”

 

 

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Why?”

 

Eggsy somehow looked incredulous with a spoon in his mouth. He mumbled around it. “So you don’t get your arse kicked on the first day of Uni?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I can handle myself.”

 

“Yeah, I bet you’re real fit under that cardigan, _granddad_ ,” he deadpanned.

 

Harry narrowed his eyes and pointedly unbuttoned the top two buttons. “We’re the same age, you - you -”

 

Eggsy raised an eyebrow expectantly. “What?” he baited.

 

“You _young person_.”

 

“Wow,” he replied, unimpressed.  “You are so fucking bad at this.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Are too.”  He dropped his spoon back into his cereal bowl.  “Quick question, what’s your stand on house guests?”

 

Harry could only blink at the sudden change in subject.  “House guests?” he repeated dumbly.

 

“Yes, _house guests_ , keep up old man.”

 

“ _I’m not an old man-“_ Harry stopped himself before he could go on a defensive rant about his age.  He took a deep breath.  “No objections to house guests,” he said instead.  “Though I prefer the kind who don’t break anything.”

 

Eggsy seemed to give a considering head tilt and Harry couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit concerned.

 

“ _Why_?” he asked warily, perhaps too late.

 

“No reason,” Eggsy replied with a flippant wave.  “For the record, I don’t mind if you have people over either.”  He stood and grabbed hold of his now empty-cereal bowl.  “Anyway, I got class, I’ll catch you later.”

 

“Goodbye then,” Harry managed to add just as Eggsy exited the room.  He sat himself down at the dining table.  

 

“Why would I ever have house guests?” he asked no one.

 

\---

 

It was Saturday morning and Harry had groggily made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen.  He flicked the switch on for the kettle and rubbed at his eyes, pulling off his glasses in the process to rest on the kitchen counter.  He could hear shuffling from across the room, scarcely making out Eggsy's figure with his blurred vision.  

 

“Good morning,” he said to Eggsy automatically.

 

Eggsy didn't respond and Harry shrugged.  It had only been a week and Harry had quickly worked out that Eggsy was not a morning person.

 

“Tea?” he offered, reaching out for another teacup regardless of Eggsy's answer.

 

“If you don't mind,” said a voice that was decidedly _not_ Eggsy's, leaving Harry scrambling for his glasses in shock.

 

His world came back into focus and he was greeted by a blond woman clad in nothing but a hoodie.   _Eggsy's hoodie_ , his brain thought to add.  He blatantly stared at her until the woman shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.  

 

“Sorry, this must be weird,” she eventually said apologetically.  She had a slight hint of an accent.

 

“No, no, of course not,” he replied hastily.  “I’m not quite myself until I’ve had a cuppa tea, you see.  Sugar?”

 

She smiled brightly in return and Harry felt like a slightly better host.  “Just one please.  No milk.”

 

\---

 

It was later at night and Eggsy’s head was halfway inside a cabinet when Harry abruptly asked -

 

“Girlfriend?”

 

Eggsy banged his head against the door.  “Ow - _fuck_ \- what?”  He pried his head from out the cabinet.  “What the fuck you on about?”

 

“Girlfriend?” Harry repeated.

 

Eggsy merely gave him an incredulous look.  “Okay, are you asking me to _be_ your girlfriend?  Or is that just how you greet people now?”  He rubbed the top of his head and looked vaguely annoyed.  “Because if it is, no.  Also, no.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.  “I’m speaking in regards to the woman from earlier.  Black tea with one sugar?”

 

There was a bit of a pause, but Eggsy seemed to understand to whom he was referring to now.  “Oh, Tilde?  She’s not my girlfriend.  Is that… fine?”

 

“Yes, of course, it’s your life,” replied Harry quickly.  “I was just startled this morning, is all.”

 

“Gotcha.”

 

An awkward silence fell over the two men.

 

“Anyway,” started Harry.

 

“Yeah, I’m just gonna make some cereal.”

 

“I’ll just get started on my dinner then.”

 

\---

 

They were halfway through their first trimester when Eggsy brought another woman over.

 

“This is Harry,” introduced Eggsy. “He’s my-”

 

They spoke directly over each other.

 

“Roommate,” said Harry.

 

“Landlord,” said Eggsy.

 

They both stared at each other.

 

The woman raised a confused eyebrow and Harry quickly extended out a hand to her. “How about we just go with Harry for now?”

 

There was a brief, curious glance but she smiled politely and shook his hand firmly. “Roxy,” she replied.

 

Harry tried to take two inconspicuous steps back towards the door. “I was actually just on my way out.”

 

He wasn’t really, but he really didn’t want to be around if Eggsy had another ‘house guest’ over.  Even if it was freezing outside.

 

He felt the doorknob hit his back and he quickly twisted it open. “Lovely to meet you though.”

 

Harry quickly slipped out and shut the door behind him, momentarily pacing back and forth as he tried to think of where he could possibly go and how long should he go for when a heavy bundle abruptly hit him square in the face.

 

Harry blinked several times, perplexed as the heavy bundle fell from his face and into his arms.

 

It was his overcoat.

 

“It’s fucking freezing,” said Eggsy from the re-opened front door. “Wear your coat.”

 

And with apparently nothing more to add, Eggsy shut the door again, leaving Harry cold and a little confused.

 

—

 

Harry returned home with a frozen face and no sign of Roxy. He tried to rub some feeling back into his cheeks.

 

Eggsy was sat at the dining table, his textbooks scattered haphazardly about alongside several pens. “Are you keeping the landlord thing a secret?”

 

Harry shook his head. “I just thought ‘roommate’ might have been less awkward.”

 

Eggsy absentmindedly tapped his pen against his notebook. “For you?”

 

“No, for you and your, um…” Harry gestured vaguely.  “I had thought you might want to impress your, um…”

 

For the second time that night, they spoke over each other.

 

“Study session?” said Eggsy.

 

“Date,” said Harry.

 

Silence.

 

Eggsy stopped tapping his pen. “D'you seriously leave because you thought we were on a date?”

 

Harry tried not to cringe. “No?”

 

Eggsy looked like he was trying to suppress a laugh. “Were you trying to wingman me?”

 

Harry frowned.  “I… no?  I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” 

 

“It’s where a bruv helps out their - nevermind, it’s not important.” Eggsy leaned back into the dining chair and crossed his arms consideringly. “That’s actually pretty decent of you.  You’re alright for an old man, you know.”

 

Harry shrugged. “Can’t wait for the day where I finally grow into my old age.”

 

Eggsy laughed and Harry’s face suddenly felt a little less numb.  “I might even mistake that for charm when you’re properly old.”

 

“Ah, something to look forward to then,” he replied sardonically. 

 

A companionable silence fell over the two for a moment before Harry made his way into the kitchen.

 

“Have you had dinner?”

 

Eggsy shook his head.  “Nah, I need to go buy cereal.”

 

Harry pulled out a handful of ingredients from out the cabinet.  “How about I make risotto and you clear the table?”

 

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, commenting, bookmarking and kudos-ing! Glad to hear that this story's being enjoyed even if a lot of it's already been done on my tumblr. :) Hugs for all!


	3. Chapter 3

“Why does our kitchen look like a drug lab?”

 

Eggsy turned his powder covered face to glare at Harry indignantly.  “I’m _baking_.”

 

There was unidentifiable slime on the ceiling, a pancake on the kitchen fan and a tea towel conspicuously too close to an open flame.  Harry was dubious at best.  “Are you sure?”

 

“Of course I’m fucking sure!”

 

The unidentifiable slime dropped atop Eggsy’s head and Harry grimaced as Eggsy’s face turned beet red.  “I’m sure it was meant to do that?” he tried for politeness sake.

 

Eggsy wiped the slime away with his cocoa covered sleeve, inadvertently caking the dark powder across his forehead.  “‘Course it was.”

 

“Right,” replied Harry placatingly as he swiped away the tea towel before it could catch fire.  “What’s the occasion?  You never cook.”

 

Eggsy stirred a pot of… Harry didn’t know what exactly.  “I do too cook!  I made us breakfast.”

 

“You poured boiling water over a tea bag.”

 

Eggsy flashed him a dirty look and Harry immediately backtracked.

 

“Which was much appreciated,” he added hastily.

 

Eggsy resumed stirring the pot of… something.  “I’ll have you know that it’s my mum’s birthday tomorrow.  Thought I’d surprise her with a chocolate cake, is all.”

 

Harry gave the pot an incredulous look.  “That’s chocolate?”

 

“What else would it be?”

 

“Death?”  Harry froze.  “ _Death_   _by chocolate_ , I meant.  You know, like the cake?  The cake you are so clearly and obviously making right now.”

 

“Nice save, but you’re a shit liar.”  Eggsy leaned forward to open the oven door, only for the apartment to be immediately flooded with smoke.

 

The smoke alarm went off.

 

—

 

Somewhere in the pandemonium, the kitchen fell into further disarray.  The smoke had cleared and Harry could now see that Eggsy had drowned the smoke alarm in the sink.

 

Harry tried to suppress a groan as he propped open a window and flicked the switch on for the kitchen fan.  He turned to Eggsy and was immediately slapped in the face with a dusty pancake.

 

—

 

Eggsy had finally stopped laughing (and pointing) as Harry finally got the last bits of pancake from out of his glasses.  

 

“Eggsy, you are a fine microwaver and even a skilled boiler of water.”  Harry wiped at a sticky spot on his cheek with his sleeve.  “But a baker you are not.”

 

Eggsy stifled his laughter with a poorly concealed smile.  He shrugged.  “You may be onto something there.”

 

Harry sighed.  “Chocolate cake, was it?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Would you like help?”

 

“Yeah, alright.”

 

—

 

Eggsy’s mother had devoured nearly half the cake to herself.

 

“Babe, this is delicious.”

 

Eggsy beamed.  “Thanks mum.”

 

“But there’s no way known you made this,” she added with an accusatory point of her fork.  “It’s that new man in your life, innit?”  

 

Eggsy rolled his eyes, quickly stealing a bite of his mother’s unguarded cake.  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Oh yes you do,” she replied, batting his fork away with her own.  “I’d let you marry this man on principle for more cake.”

 

Eggsy gasped in mock horror.  “You’d sell your only son into marriage for _cake_?”

 

She tilted her head thoughtfully.  “I s’ppose that’d be wrong of me.”

 

“Damn fucking straight.”

 

She popped another bite of cake into her mouth and spoke around her fork.  “Is he rich?”

 

“ _Mum_!”

 

“Just a thought babe,” she said mid-laugh.  “So when am I gonna meet this Harry anyway?”

 

Eggsy sighed, exasperated.  “For the millionth time, we’re not dating.”

 

“Didn’t say you were,” she replied slyly.  “Can’t a mother meet her son’s friends?”

 

“They can when they’re not planning on selling said son for cake.”

 

“I admit, that was wrong of me,” she said with a conceding nod.  “What if I sold you for cash _and_ cake?”

 

“Mum!”

 

She laughs again as Eggsy huffs.

 

He picks at the side of his slice of cake distractedly.  “So when’re _you_ gonna start dating?”

 

She sighs in exasperation.  “No, Eggsy.”

 

“C’mon mum, it’s been nearly twenty years since dad…” he trails off.  “You know.”

 

She puts her fork down.  “Babe, I’m perfectly happy on my own.”

 

“I know, I know, it’d just be nice to know that someone was looking out for you, okay?  Other than me, ‘course.”

 

His mother is quiet for some time, when she picks her fork back up again. “I’ll think about it.”

 

\---

 

It’s December and Harry and Eggsy have somehow survived their first trimester of University with flying colours.

 

Eggsy stumbles down the stairs, having slept in until noon yet again, one hand rubbing at his eyes blearily as he seemingly follows the smell of fresh bread.  

 

“It’ll be ready in about five minutes,” says Harry as he wipes down the kitchen counter.

 

“Good, I’m fucking starving,” replies Eggsy, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

 

Harry glances at the time. “Well, you did sleep through breakfast.”

 

“Did I?”  He bleats sarcastically, “Did I miss out on anything else?”

 

“Christmas, New Year and that terrible massacre on Valentine’s day,” Harry lists in a straight voice.  "Welcome to the New Post-Apocalyptic World."

 

"Very nice, let’s ban 6AM starts in the New World then.”

 

“I’ll be sure to let our new alien overlords know,” he replies with an eye roll. “Eggs?”

“Scrambled.”

 

Harry is busy whisking the eggs when Eggsy asks, “You going home for Christmas?”

 

He pauses, not sure of how to answer.  He keeps whisking.  “Yes. You?”

 

Eggsy nods and hops himself atop the kitchen counter.  “Yeah, my mum’s been dating this new bloke.  Fingers crossed he’s not a wanker.”

 

“One can only hope.”

 

“Kinda excited, to be honest.”

 

Harry smiles.  “Best of luck then.”

 

—

 

It’s the day after Christmas when Eggsy returns.  “The fuck you doing here?” he asks Harry.

 

He lowers the cup of tea from his lips.  “We’ve gone over this, I  _live_  here.”

 

“You know what I mean,” he snaps back irritably.  "Figured you’d be out until after New Year."

 

Harry hazards a guess that the mum’s new boyfriend is a wanker.  "I can stay elsewhere if you like?”

 

Eggsy grumbles and slams the front door shut, dropping his duffle bag loudly in front of it. “Don’t be stupid.”

 

Harry sits perfectly still. "Am I doing it?"

 

"Doing what?" 

 "Not being stupid?"

 

There’s a brief silence, but a startled laugh eventually escapes him.  "You’re so fucking strange.”

 

Harry shrugs and resumes his tea.  "So you tell me.  Dinner?"

 

"Starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bookmarking, kudos-ing and commenting. Hugs and cake for all!


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was undecided on whether Eggsy was a charming drunk or an annoying drunk.  He thought he would have made up his mind on the situation after two years of living together, but to no avail.

 

Eggsy tugged at the lapels of his ridiculously well-fitted blazer.  “Fuckin’ check me out,“ he slurs.

 

Harry was making a point not to.  

 

“How much wine did you have exactly?” he asked instead, balancing Eggsy against his side as he nudged the front door open with his free shoulder.

 

“Dunno, a bottle…ish?”

 

“ _ Eggsy _ ,” Harry chides.

 

Eggsy makes an aborted motion that Harry assumes is a fist pump.  "I’ll have you know that wine makes me  _ awesome _ .“

 

"Right.”

 

“It does!”

 

“Sure.”

 

Eggsy gives him an annoyed look before casting a glum look at the living room.  "I’m so fuckin’ dressed to impress right now, the fuck am I s'pposed to do here?“

 

"Ideally, drink a glass of water, get into your pyjamas and go straight to bed without a fuss. Bonus points if you don’t send half-naked snapchats to half our year level.”

 

Eggsy lets out a snort and Harry already knows that his ‘ideal plan’ won’t come to fruition.  

 

“Dressing to impress doesn’t work when I’m just at home,” whined Eggsy.  "If I wanted to impress someone at home, I’d have to do the exact opposite.“

 

Harry didn’t follow this drunken train of thought.  "Dress down you mean?”

 

Eggsy breathed the answer into his ear.  “ _ Undress _ , I mean.”

 

Eggsy yelps slightly when Harry drops him unceremoniously onto the couch.

 

\---

 

Sometimes there were occasions where Eggsy is a touch drunk and asks Harry questions that he  _ really doesn’t want to answer.   _ It is here that Harry decides that Eggsy is an annoying drunk.

 

“So you like them tall and brunette, huh?”

 

Harry gives Eggsy a long look, recognising that the young man had indeed spoken in English, but completely unable to decipher its meaning. “Excuse me?”

 

“Your new friend,” he explains, gesturing to Harry’s new acquaintance in the distance. “I’ve been trying to work out your type for fucking ages.”

 

Harry still didn’t understand. “My type?”

 

“Yeah, Rox and I were making bets on who you’d be interested in.” He snorts. “She said you’d like dirty blondes, so guess who owes me ten quid!”

 

“Not Roxanne,” answers Harry.

 

Eggsy blinks. “What d’you mean?”

 

“I’m not sure I’ve ever expressed particular fondness for any brunettes.”

 

“But…” Eggsy gestures flailingly to Harry’s new acquaintance. “You do realise he was hitting on you, yeah?”

 

Harry frowns. “Hitting on me?” he repeats slowly.

 

“Christ Harry,” he begins with exasperation, “You’ve heard of flirting before, haven’t you? Or is the concept before your time?”

 

“We’re the same age!”

 

“Then have you heard of it before?”

 

“Of course I have!”

 

“Good, ‘cause congratulations, it’s just happened to you.”

 

Harry falls silent as the overwhelming feeling of not knowing what to do sweeps over him to full effect. It quickly fades into panic. “What do I do?”

 

Eggsy gives him an odd look. “You flirt back. Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?”

 

“Of course not!” Harry tried to ignore the budding hysteria in his gut. “I’m being polite, how does that constitute as flirting nowadays?”

 

“You’re joking me,” says Eggsy disbelievingly. “I thought that was your attempt at charm?”

 

“If I had the faintest inclination of interest in someone, I wouldn’t be charming, Eggsy. I wouldn’t even be functional.”

 

Harry can see his new acquaintance walking back towards him, carrying a beer in each hand, presumably for the both of them. He presses his back against the wall, in a poor attempt to hide.

 

“What do I do?” He hisses to Eggsy.

 

Eggsy sighs. “Don’t freak out.”

 

“That is precisely what someone would say before doing something that would absolutely freak me the fuck out-”

 

Eggsy wraps an arm around his waist and drags Harry in close.

 

Harry shuts up.

 

The lack of personal space between the two of them should raise definite alarm bells for Harry though to his surprise, he only feels pleasantly warm.

 

Eggsy begins to laugh and somehow Harry finds himself laughing too.

 

Eggsy nudges him playfully with his shoulder. “You’re so fucking funny, babe.”

 

“I am?”

 

“‘Babe’?”

 

Harry startles as his new acquaintance approaches them and stares awkwardly at the blatant display of public affection. His British sensibilities kick in as he tries to pry himself from out of Eggsy’s grasp, though Eggsy seems to only hold on tighter.

 

“Friend of yours?” Asks Eggsy innocently.

 

Harry doesn’t know how to answer. “We were just talking,” he tries, which at least is technically true.

 

Harry can’t quite see the expression on Eggsy’s face, but judging by the terrified expression of his new acquaintance, he could guess that their relationship would now be short-lived.

 

“Just talking?” Eggsy questions, despite it sounding completely rhetorical.

 

The new acquaintance fumbles slightly. “Yes, just talking. I think I see a friend actually, I should say hi.”

 

“Yes, you should,” deadpans Eggsy.

 

“Right then. I think I’ll do that.”

 

“Off you go then.”

 

“Er, bye then?”

 

“Bye,” says Eggsy unsmilingly.

 

Harry’s new acquaintance makes a beeline for the door and Eggsy waits a few minutes before letting go.

 

Eggsy huffs a laugh. “Well that was easy.” He begins to make his way across the room, away from Harry. “Gimmie a yell if you run into anymore unintentional flirting, yeah?“

 

Harry nods and Eggsy leaves him to socialise with other people at the party.

 

Harry decides that Eggsy is a charming drunk.

 

\---

 

Harry can’t help but feel as though he’s on the cusp of a terrifying revelation.  He’s also 90% sure that it may have to do with Eggsy, so, naturally, he avoids all thoughts surrounding said roommate, only to find that in doing so, he never stops thinking about him.  

 

“So who is it then?” asks Eggsy abruptly.

 

“Hm?”

 

Eggsy hops atop the kitchen counter adjacent to Harry.  "The person you can’t function around.“

 

Harry promptly drops the dish he’s holding.  

 

—

Fate seems to enjoy laughing at Harry as, despite his desperate attempts to avoid Eggsy, he somehow finds himself locked inside a broken elevator with him.  Alone.

 

Harry and Eggsy sit opposite each other in the broken down elevator, as they wait for the technicians to arrive.

 

“We could die in this elevator you know,” Eggsy says dramatically.

 

Harry rolls his eyes. “They’ll be here in five minutes.”

 

Eggsy ignores him.  “And you’d feel fucking awful if you didn’t grant me my dying wish of just knowing who the fuck it is you’re into.”

 

“You’re not dying.”

 

“We’re all technically dying.”

 

Harry resists the urge to smack his head against the wall.

 

—

 

Harry finds that he doesn’t actually like avoiding Eggsy, so they do the mundane things required of roommates, and go grocery shopping.

 

Harry glances up from his shopping list, shopping basket slung around his forearm.  “Could you get milk?”

 

Eggsy dumps the fresh produce into the basket.  “Could you tell me who your ass over tits for?”

 

Harry gets the milk himself.

 

—

 

Harry finds that he also does the not-so-mundane things required of a roommate, and accompanies Eggsy to a party.

 

Eggsy sloshes his beer as he points the glass accusingly at Harry, his face flushed red from the alcohol. He yells over the loud party music. “I could help you get whoever it is!”

 

“For the hundredth time, I’m not telling you!”

 

Harry decides that Eggsy is an annoying drunk.  Again.

 

\---

 

Eggsy eventually stops asking Harry questions that he  _ really doesn’t want to answer _ .  There’s a moment of peace, until Harry discovers that Eggsy’s persistence has rubbed off on Roxanne.

 

“That’s it, I’m telling him.”

 

Harry froze as Roxy suddenly took him by the arm and forcibly dragged him into his own living room. “What are you talking about?”

 

“The pining,” she explained with a slight grumble. “It’s completely unbearable. I’ve decided that you’re going to ask Eggsy out. I’ve made reservations for dinner. Tonight.”

 

Harry paused. “While I’m very glad that you’ve given this so much thought, I’m afraid I’ll have to give it a pass.”

 

“Why not? Your single, he’s single, what’s stopping you?”

 

He pretended to mull over the question. “Well, I was rather hoping to die alone some place far, far away, preferably in a blaze of destructive glory with one or two witty quips.” He tilted his head consideringly. “Perhaps in America. I’ve not been yet.”

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “You’re only asking him out to dinner, not to shoot a dog and run away with you into the sunset.”

 

“You know, I’m truly terrified to ever find out what goes on in that mind of yours.”

 

“Likewise,” she quipped before slapping him on the shoulder with remarkable force. “Anyway, just ask him!”

 

“Ask who what?”

 

Harry nearly jumped at the mere sound of Eggsy’s voice. “I didn’t realize you were home!”

 

Eggsy shrugged. “My class finished early.” He flashed Harry and Roxy a suspicious look. “Are you two plotting against me?”

 

Harry and Roxy spoke over each other.

 

“No!” replied an alarmed Harry.

 

“Always,” replied an indifferent Roxy.

.

Eggsy’s eyes darted between the two, before narrowing in on Harry. “What were you going to ask someone?”

 

“Harry was going to ask you something, actually.” She gave Harry a look that suggested a slow and painful death if he disobeyed. “Weren’t you, Harry?” Roxy then casually glanced at her watch.  “Aaaand I have to go. Talk soon!”

 

—

 

Eggsy stared after Roxy’s retreating back, apparently confused. “Well that was weird.”

 

Harry had to force his words out. “Yes, quite.”

 

“What d’you want to ask me?”

 

Harry cleared his throat nervously. “Nothing, uh, nothing too important, I promise. It’s just that I, uh…“

 

“What?”

 

Harry couldn’t do this. “I… was wondering what cologne you were wearing? The house smells different.”

 

“Trust you to notice that,” he replied with a bit of an eyeroll. “Think it might be obsession.”

 

“No!” Harry shouted out a little too loudly, embarrassed and defensive all at once. “No, no, it’s not, it’s a perfectly legitimate question!”

 

Eggsy gave him a strange look. "No, it’s Calvin Klein’s  _ Obsession _ , you wanker.”

 

Harry felt like an idiot. “Oh.”

 

“Alright, spit it out. What the fuck’s going on?”

 

Harry rubbed at his temples before sighing. He looked at the ground. “Roxy’s booked reservations to a restaurant for tonight. She thinks I should ask someone out on a date for it.”

 

Eggsy’s eyebrows raised to his hairline for a second before giving a small admitting nod. “You should, you know.”

 

Harry raised his head at that. “I should?”

 

“Yeah, the pining’s getting painful to watch.”

 

Harry winced. “It is?”

 

Eggsy gave a one shouldered shrug. “Sometimes. The tortured pining look can work for you occasionally. Reckon you’ll work the shit out of it once you’re a proper old man though.”

 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh in spite of himself. “That’ll be the day, won’t it?”

 

“Fuck yeah, I’ll have to beat the people away with a stick by then,” he added jokingly. “But anyway, yes, go ask the person out. Now what was it that you really wanted to ask me?”

 

Harry fell quiet. He could just ask him. Eggsy was right there after all. “It really pains me to ask you this.” He took a deep breath and choked. “But could you help me pick something to wear?”

 

—

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Eggsy nearly dropped his textbook, whipping himself around at his unannounced house guest.  “Rox, we’ve gone over this, I live here.”

 

Roxy’s arms were folded over her chest. “You’re supposed to be at the restaurant.”

 

Eggsy dropped his textbook down onto the dining table atop his other books. “Don’t worry, I practically dragged Harry to his date myself. He’s at the restaurant waiting now.”

 

Roxy’s arms unfolded slowly. “Alone?”

 

Eggsy blinked once. Twice. “Well, I didn’t stick around to check who the date was.”

 

Roxy’s face was in her palm in an instant as she apparently tried to deal with the stress of… whatever this situation was. She glanced back up. “Harry’s all alone at the restaurant.”

 

Eggsy wasn’t entirely sure why he suddenly felt as outraged as he did. “His date stood him up?”

 

Roxy didn’t have time to answer. Eggsy had already grabbed his coat and left.

 

—

 

Eggsy plopped himself down in the seat opposite Harry. “Evening Harry, I’ll be your date for this evening.”

 

Harry glanced up from his menu, blinking several times in utter bewilderment. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“Also, your original date is a complete and total douchebag for not showing up.” Eggsy picked up the drinks menu and quickly scanned through the beer list. “Gimmie their name, I'mma go fight them.”

 

“No Eggsy.”

 

“C’mon!”

 

_ “No Eggsy.” _

 

“I only need a name.”

 

“What are you? An assassin off Game of Thrones?”

 

Eggsy mocked gasped. “Who told you?”

 

The little laugh that escaped Harry took him by surprise and he found himself shaking his head and being truthful. “I can’t give you a name because I didn’t even ask them.” Harry busied himself into looking through his own menu. “I lost my nerve.”

 

“So you were just going to sit at this restaurant all by yourself?”

 

“No sense wasting a good reservation.”

 

Eggsy picked up the regular menu. “You could’ve just asked me if you weren’t up for a proper date.”

 

Harry huffed as he tried to concentrate on reading the entrées. “What’s this then? A pity date?”

 

“No,” Eggsy replied as he flipped a page. “It’s just… us. You shouldn’t fucking stress if it’s just us.”

 

Harry paused for a second, feeling his general sense of unease ebb away. Eggsy may have had a point. He put down the menu. "Eggsy, would you like to stay and have dinner with me?”

 

Eggsy dropped his menu down a fraction so Harry could see his small grin. “Yeah. Anytime, Harry.” He lifted the menu back up, glancing over the mains. “You’re looking good, by the way. It’s like someone amazing dressed you.”

 

Harry snorted and shook his head.  He raised the menu back to eye level.

 

His heart sank in his chest, suddenly resigned in the revelation he had been so desperately avoiding.

 

He loved Eggsy.  And it wouldn’t end well. 


	5. Chapter 5

Harry is in the final weeks of his second year when he can’t help but notice that something is not quite right, as the school janitor appears to be stalking him.

 

He chalks it up to paranoia, though he eyes the janitor mopping the tiles near a student chemical workstation.

 

Harry tries not to think about it, until he suddenly  _ can’t stop thinking about it _ , when a student seemingly sets the very same chemical workstation alight during his class.

 

He wakes up several weeks later in hospital, dizzy and in pain.

 

A nurse comes in to fuss over him. She hands him a cup of ice chips. “What do you remember?”

 

Harry throat is raspy from disuse. “Chem lab on fire. I jumped out a window.”

 

“You jumped through a window,” she corrected. “You’re very lucky you don’t have severe burns or lacerations.”

 

He glances down at his bandaged arms. “Otherwise alright?”

 

“Yes, otherwise.” She gives him something for the pain and he immediately feels drowsy.  “Your friend kicked up quite the fuss when he finally found you,” she says.

 

It takes Harry awhile to process this information. “Who?”

 

“Your friend,” she repeats, like it’s a concept Harry should be familiar with. “Dirty blond, brown eyes?”

 

Harry frowns, trying hard to focus. “Eggsy?”

 

“That’s the one!”

 

“His eyes are green.”

 

“Well aren’t we precious.”

 

—

 

Harry wakes up the following afternoon to -

 

“Put me down as your emergency contact.”

 

Harry lolls his head to the side to the sight of a very cross looking Eggsy. He’s not sure if he’s misheard. “I’m sorry?”

 

“You should be.”

 

“Okay, I’m actually sorry then.” Harry winced, fiddling with the control beside his bed to lift him into a sitting position. “What am I sorry about again?“

 

“You didn’t have an emergency contact listed with the university,” says Eggsy. “And they couldn’t get in contact with your family. So it’s gonna be me from now on.”

 

Harry didn’t know what to say.  “Okay,” he tries.  It doesn’t sound like enough.  “Thank you, Eggsy,” he adds after a pause.  

 

Eggsy smiled genuinely for a brief moment and Harry was at a complete loss.  The smile turned cheeky. “I mean, it’s all part of my long term plan to get myself included on your will.”

 

Harry scoffed. “I’m not some old fool you can take advantage of.”

 

“Do you have a will?”

 

“Maybe, but that’s hardly the point.”

 

“Well there you go!” He replies cheerfully. “You  _ old man _ .”

 

“You  _ young person _ .“


	6. Chapter 6

Eggsy had decided that the best way to recover from a trip to a hospital was _yet another University party_.  

 

Harry tried not to groan as he resisted the urge to itch his not-as-wounded arms under the bandages, when he turns a corner and hears a voice he’s managed to avoid for nearly two years.

 

**_“Hi. Sorry, I just had to come over and say, amazing eyes. Are you wearing colour contacts?”_ **

 

Harry ducked behind the corner and hid, pressing his back against the wall.  “Fuck.”

 

Eggsy was looking at him as though he had grown two heads.  “You right there?”

 

**_“Oh, my God, negging. That’s hilarious. I haven’t heard anyone try that since the noughties.”_ **

 

Eggsy quickly glanced behind the corner.  “C’mon, Rox is here, let’s watch her completely destroy this wanker.”  He made a move to go and Harry nearly reached out to stop him.  He didn’t.

 

“Wait,” he tried instead.  

 

Harry had a feeling he must have looked especially pitiful for Eggsy to look as concerned as he did.

 

“Want me tell him to fuck off?  What is he, an ex?”

 

Harry groaned and shook his head.  “Worse.”

 

“What d’you mean worse?”

 

Harry winced. “He’s my brother.”

 

Eggsy paused.  “You have a brother?”

 

“You say that like I never asked if I was adopted,” Harry replied a little defensively.  “And I did.  Repeatedly.”

 

To his surprise, Eggsy looked rather angry.  “Why the fuck didn’t he visit you in hospital?”

 

Harry blinked.  “Why would he?”

 

For the briefest of moments, Eggsy looked terribly sad.  “That’s fucked.”  It quickly faded back into anger.  “I’ma fight him.  Wait here.”

 

“ _No Eggsy_!”

 

Harry is saved from tackling Eggsy to the ground when Eggsy walks straight into Roxy in his haste to pick a fight.

 

Roxy, apparently impossible to catch off-guard, raises an eyebrow as Eggsy stumbles back with an awkward apology.  

 

“Man on a mission, are you?’ she asks.

 

"Yep,” he replies just as Harry says, “No.”

 

She gives them both an odd look.  “What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing,” says Harry with a pointed stare at Eggsy.  “I was just leaving.”

 

**_“You know, if you’re into seduction techniques, this guy is textbook.”_ **

 

Harry stumbles into the umbrella holder, spilling umbrellas and knocking over a nearby coat-rack.  

 

“So much for a daring escape,” he mutters as he detaches an umbrella handle from his ankle.

 

**_“Harry?”_ **

 

He freezes at the sound of his brothers voice, but doesn’t turn around.  He bolts out the front door.

 

Eggsy makes a move to chase after Harry’s brother, when the taller man picks up one of the umbrellas scattered on the ground and swings it abruptly.  

 

The handle snags onto the beer glass of a confounded bystander.

 

Everything seems to move in slow-motion as beer spills all over the floor and Eggsy dodges to the side.  The glass harmlessly passes him by.

 

Only to hit another party-goer in the forehead.  

 

The person falls down just as Eggsy looks back to Harry’s brother.

 

He’s gone.  

 

Roxy calls an ambulance and the party is over.

 

—

 

Eggsy places down a hot cup of tea in front of Roxy, his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he waits for his call to connect for maybe the hundredth time that night.

 

“Thank you,” she replies gratefully as she warms her hands against the cup. “Still not picking up?”

 

Harry’s voicemail. Again.

 

Eggsy lets out a disappointed huff and nods, as he impatiently waits for the voicemail beep. “Me again,” he says into the receiver.  "Pick up your fucking phone, wanke-“

 

"Voice mail storage full,” replies an automated voice.

 

Eggsy drops his phone on the sofa before he gives in to frustration to throw it across the room. He glances up at the time.  The clock ticks over to 1AM.  "It’s been three hours.“

 

"I’m sure he’ll come home soon,” Roxy tries reassuringly.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry desperately needed a crowd to disappear into, but the night was cold and it seemed that everyone had retreated to the warmth of the indoors.

 

_Train station? Too far. Pub? Would need to take the lights out. Too hard. Townhouses? Breaking in and entering. Illegal. Leave as Plan B. Christ, think Harry, think!_

 

His heart suddenly leapt at the sight of a black cab.

 

He chased after it, practically diving into the back seat just as it slowed down to the footpath.

 

He shut the door with a satisfying slam and tried to catch his breath. His phone buzzes and he glances down to check it.

 

It’s a message from Eggsy.

 

_You ok?_

 

“You really are predictable, Harry.”

 

His phone abruptly lost signal as he froze at the all-too-familiar voice of the ‘cab driver’. He groaned and leaned back into the chair. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

 

“Nice to see you too,” replied the driver evenly.

 

“And you, Charlie,” he replied with false cordiality. “Do all cabs come with EMPs nowadays?”

 

“Can’t have you calling anyone after all.”

 

“Right. And how is the business of EMP equipped cabs? Can’t be that lucrative for passengers. Please tell me that you actually pick up regular passengers on accident and that it’s as delightfully awkward as I can imagine.”

 

He couldn’t see his face, but it was probably safe to assume that Charlie had rolled his eyes.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“I would be delighted to,” replies Harry as he tries to open his car door.

 

Charlie pointedly locks them.

 

Nothing is said for some time. Harry stares out the window for a bit, still able to recognise the general area but unable to gauge where they could be going.

 

He props a bandaged elbow against the window armrest, his cheek pressed up against his palm. “What are you doing here?”

 

“You know why.”

 

“You’re a shithouse communicator, don’t be cryptic and shithouse.”

 

Charlie grumbles under his breath. “Christ, I don’t miss your fucking cheek in the slightest.”

 

“What do you want?” He asks again.

 

“Dad wants you in the family business.” Charlie turns into a brightly lit road that Harry immediately recognises.

 

“Tailoring?”

 

“You know that’s not what we do.”

 

Harry frowns as Charlie pulls the cab over at the bright lights of the A&E section of the public hospital.

 

His brother doesn’t turn around. The cab doors unlock.

 

“You have a week to sort out your affairs before the trials start.”

 

Harry quickly exits the car before Charlie can possibly change his mind. He glances down at his phone. It’s still not working.

 

“That should be fully functional in twenty-four hours. Oh, and have fun getting your credit cards to work. Hope you brought cash.”

 

Harry stares at the fluorescent lighting of the A&E building before looking back at Charlie.  “Why’d you drop me off here?”

 

For a second, Charlie looks uncomfortable.  “You should get those bandages changed.”

 

Harry frowns, unconciously tugging his sleeves down.  “How did you know about-?”

 

He doesn’t get an answer, as Charlie, with nothing more to say, drives off.

 

Harry looks back at his last text message from Eggsy and sighs. He types a reply even though he can’t send one.

 

_Not ok._

 

\---

 

Harry decides that there’s something oddly therapeutic about writing text messages to Eggsy that he can’t actually send.

 

_You won’t believe just how much of a wanker my brother is._

 

_He’s almost as bad as my father, but I’m hoping you two will never have to meet._

 

_Admittedly, you might drive him completely mad, which would be amusing to watch._

 

_I feel like there’s so much I should tell you._

 

_I come from a long line of secrecy that I wish I could tell you about, if I knew myself what was really going on._

 

_I don’t quite know how to tell you that I’ll be gone in a week and that the likelihood of us seeing each other may, unfortunately, be quite slim._

 

_I want you to know that despite the ridiculous and extenuating circumstances that resulted in the two of us incidentally living together, that I have appreciated your company._

 

_I will miss you terribly_

 

Harry stops in his tracks, as he stares in utter bewilderment at his phone.

 

He exits out of his text messages.

 

—

 

It’s a little after 3AM when Harry moves to slot his key into his front door.  The door is immediately flung open before he has the chance.

 

“Why haven’t you answered your fucking phon - what the fuck happened to you?”  

 

The speed to which Eggsy could go from furious rage to unguarded concern made Harry’s head spin.

 

Harry didn’t care.  He was tired. It had taken him over an hour to walk home from A&E and he was more than a little done with his thoughts at this point.

 

Eggsy thankfully steps aside. “Christ, just get inside, it’s fucking freezing.”

 

—

 

“So you ended up at A&E and you got your bandages replaced,” Eggsy confirms.

 

“Basically,” answers Harry tiredly.  

 

“And how did you get to A&E?”

 

Harry waves the question off. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Did you walk back from A&E?”

 

“Uh-”

 

“Harry!”

 

“I really am fine,“ he tries a little haplessly.

 

Eggsy pokes Harry hard into his side, using his temporary surprise to pry away his phone from his hands.

 

Harry attempts to make a grab for his phone.  “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m checking to see if you got any of my messages.”

 

Harry’s phone is password protected, so he doesn’t worry too much.

 

That is, until Eggsy deftly types in a few numbers and unlocks it.


	8. Chapter 8

 

If Harry had been holding anything, he would have dropped it.  He stood, properly making a grab for his phone.  “How do you know my passcode?”

 

Eggsy shrugs, holding an outstretched palm against Harry’s chest to keep him at a distance, casually scrolling through Harry’s phone.  “Dunno.  You should change it though.  Someone might steal your phone.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

They must have looked ridiculous.  Harry, taller than Eggsy, attempting to snatch his phone away.  Eggsy, apparently the _King of Keepings Off_ , dodging and half-heartedly shoving Harry away.  

 

“Why doesn’t your phone have service?” he asks.

 

“Doesn’t matter, give it back.”

 

“Christ, why don’t you have your messages in your frequently used apps?”

 

Harry nearly trips over the coffee table.  “I don’t know!”

 

“No wonder you didn’t get any of my messages.  You can’t even _find_ your messages!”

 

Harry finds his footing again and make an aborted motion to reach his phone again.  He misses.  “I swear, I have half a mind to actually hit you.”

  


“You wouldn’t,” says Eggsy without looking up.  

 

Harry wouldn’t.  

 

Eggsy squints hard at Harry’s phone, carefully scanning each app.  “This is so fucking tedious.  D’you remember the last thing I texted you?”

 

“You asked if I was okay.”

 

Eggsy nods consideringly.  “Yeah, sounds about right.  Are you?”

 

“ _Of course not!_ ” he snaps.  “I have one week left here and then god fucking knows where I’ll be, I just know it won’t be here, so no.  No, I’m not fucking okay!”

 

There was silence.

 

Eggsy lowered the phone to his side.  "What?“

 

Harry could feel his face burn with what was probably mortification.  "I didn’t meant to yell, I’m sorry.”

 

Eggsy took a step forward, his face contorted into a frown.  "What d'you mean you won’t be here in a week?“

 

Harry swallowed and tried to feign indifference.  "Exactly that.”

 

“But…”  He looked the most conflicted than Harry had ever seen him.  "Why?  You’ve not even graduated yet.“

 

"I know.”

 

“Are you dropping out?  Why are you going?  Where are you going?”

 

Eggsy had taken steps towards Harry with every question, up until he was a few inches away, Harry’s phone pointed accusingly at his face.  "Are you taking the fucking piss right now?“

 

"No, Eggsy.”  Harry takes the opportunity to pull his phone from out of Eggsy’s hands.  "I sincerely wish I was.“

 

"When are you coming back?”

 

Harry shook his head in lieu of an answer.

 

“But you’re…”  It was strange to see Eggsy so inarticulate.

 

“An _old man who doesn’t get up to anything interesting on purpose_?”  Harry tries to joke.

 

“I was going to say _my friend_ , but that too.”

 

“Oh,” says Harry a little dumber than he had intended.

 

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “Don’t do that.”

 

“Don’t do what?”

 

“Don’t look so surprised,” replies Eggsy, as he avoids all eye contact. “We’ve been living together for two years, you make me dinner and I tell you when you dress like shit-”

 

“You wore winged shoes the other day!”

 

“We’re friends,” says Eggsy pointedly over his interjection. “You should be used to that by now.”

 

“I am used to it,” he confirmed after a brief silence.  "I’d say that’s a large part of my problem with leaving.“

 

Eggsy huffed a sigh and took a step back, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.  Harry can’t help but feel guilty for making things so complicated. "I got class in five hours, let’s talk about this later, when we’re not exhausted,” says Eggsy.

 

Harry merely nods as he watches Eggsy run up the stairs to his room.  "Get some sleep, you old man!”  Eggsy shouts just as he slams his bedroom door shut.

 

Harry can’t help but smile a little.  "Respect your elders, young man!“ he shouts back.

 

—

 

Harry watches his hand shake as he drinks what is probably his seventh coffee that day.  Getting through class is a struggle with far too much on his mind and too little sleep.  

 

It’s already dark when he glances down at his phone.  He flicks to his text messages.  He needs to buy milk.

 

He means to send Eggsy a text to ask if he wants anything from the grocery store.

 

He sends all his unsent messages from the previous night instead.

 

\---

 

The unexpected internal panic in Harry’s gut doesn’t immediately register in his sleep-deprived brain.

 

Harry stares at his phone, having stopped in the middle of the footpath to focus.

 

He stares at Eggsy’s name at the very top of his phone.

 

He stares at the last message he sent.

 

_I will miss you terribly_

 

He reads it again and again and again and again until-

 

“Oh for fucks sake.”

 

—

 

Eggsy’s phone vibrates loudly against the desk in study hall.

 

It buzzes eight times in quick succession.

 

Roxy raises an eyebrow at him from across the table.  "Well, aren’t you popular?“

 

Eggsy flashes her a wink.  "Always am.”

 

He glances over the small preview his phone provides, scrolling from the bottom up.  "Huh, they’re all from Harry.“

 

“Oh really?”

 

“Shut up Rox.”

 

He opens up his messages to read them all properly, idly wondering if he left the stove on and quickly remembering that he hasn’t cooked once since moving in with Harry.

 

In the end, the messages aren’t about the stove and are instead accompanied by a strange internal pain he doesn’t understand.

 

Eggsy doesn’t even know what to say.

 

He just knows that the situation is unacceptable.

 

Roxy eventually prompts him with a slightly worried look. “Is everything alright?”

 

His eyes linger on one message in particular.

 

_I don’t quite know how to tell you that I’ll be gone in a week and that the likelihood of us seeing each other may, unfortunately, be quite slim._

 

Harry moving out was one thing.

 

Harry exiting out of Eggsy’s life entirely was another.

 

He nearly jumped out of his seat when Roxy reached out to gently squeeze his forearm.

 

“What’s the matter?” She asked softly.

 

Eggsy swallowed hard and stood up, quickly shoving his textbooks and pens into his backpack, in an almost-panic. “I’ll tell you later, I have to go.”

 

Roxy merely nods and wishes him luck as he swings his backpack over his shoulder.

 

He runs home.

 

—

 

Harry doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. There’s no real way to recover from this.

 

He tries anyway.

 

He sends another text.

 

—

 

Eggsy’s phone buzzes again, about halfway to the run home.

 

Just under the message of _I will miss you terribly_ reads:

  
_Anyway, do you want anything from the grocery store?_


	9. Chapter 9

Harry had been standing outside his front door for maybe five minutes, his key in hand as he hovered it nervously by the keyhole.

 

The door flings open abruptly to an exasperated Eggsy.

 

“Just get the fuck in here already!”

 

Harry lowered his hand in slight incredulity.  "How do you always know I’m here before I even get here?“

 

”Seriously?  That’s your concern right now?“

 

"I also have minor concerns surrounding groceries,” he replies in a small voice as he steps inside.

 

Eggsy all but slams the door behind them.  "Don’t even get me started on that.“

 

Harry tries his best to not wince at just how terribly embarrassing everything now was.  Eggsy crosses the room and sits himself on the sofa. He pointedly stares at the adjacent armchair until Harry takes the hint and sits himself down.

 

"Did you buy milk?”  Eggsy asks in a voice so quiet that Harry barely recognises it.  "We ran out.“

 

"I did, yes,” he replies.

 

The ensuing silence is so awkward that it’s almost too painful to bear.  They speak directly over each other.

 

“This isn’t forever, right?” asks Eggsy.

 

“I really will miss you terribly,” says Harry.

 

Harry can’t begin to describe the look Eggsy gives him.   _ Upset _ would have been an understatement.

 

“Suppose that answers my question,” says Eggsy after a pause. 

 

“Suppose it does,” replies Harry as he feels his face burn with embarrassment.

 

Eggsy fidgets with his phone, mindlessly tossing it from one hand to the other. “Do you want to go?”

 

“Of course not,” he says without thinking.

 

Eggsy sighs. “Then stay, you wanker.”

 

“If things were as simple as that, I would.”

 

Eggsy gives him a long, scrutinising look, as though trying to re-assess everything he has ever known about him and how on earth it could have possibly led to this. “You don’t strike me as someone who’d get in trouble. I don’t think you’re running away from something.”

 

“This was my running away,” says Harry, gesturing to his house.

 

Eggsy blinks. “If your version of running away was buying a house, I’d hate to know what your teenage rebellious phase was like.”

 

“I was terribly ordinary,” Harry agrees. “I’m hoping to save the worst of myself for my mid-life crisis.”

 

“And a fucking spectacular mid-life crisis it would be,” says Eggsy with a huffed laugh. “I’d buy front row tickets to that shit-show.”

 

_ But you can’t _ , Harry’s brain unhelpfully answers. He glances over at Eggsy and wonders if he’s thinking the same thing. Judging by his unhappy face, he guesses he is.

 

“You know, this wasn’t supposed to happen.  You weren’t meant to be here.“

 

Eggsy is immediately defensive. “Don’t you fucking pin this on me, you’re the one whose gonna up and leave with no explanation!”

 

Harry isn’t entirely sure why, but he suddenly feels defensive as well. “I was meant to be alone! You just showed up in my house!”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure your life would have been so fucking interesting without me-”

 

“It was supposed to be easier that way!”

 

“Well, sorry I kept your life from being completely lonely-”

 

“I shouldn’t,” Harry splutters over his words. “I’m not supposed to be feeling like this!”

 

“Yeah, well what the fuck’s that, huh?” Eggsy stands up abruptly, all pent up anger and misplaced aggression. He looms over Harry. “What the fuck is it you’re feeling, Mr ‘I-miss-you-but-also-I-bought-milk’?“

 

“I feel like I have something to lose now!”

 

And at that sad realisation, Harry feels all the fight leave him.

 

He stands up, grabbing at the plastic bag carrying the bottle of milk, desperate for any excuse to walk away.

 

“I’ll find someone to rent my room so your rent stays the same,” he says, deliberately avoiding Eggsy’s eyes and stepping away.  He walks to the kitchen and puts the milk in the fridge. He can feel Eggsy staring at him.

 

“So that’s it then?” Asks Eggsy. “You’ll just sort this mess out here and then fuck off?”

 

“I don’t know what else to tell you.” Harry takes in a slow deep breath and feels resigned. “I’m just… I’m sorry, Eggsy.”

 

Their front door abruptly bursts open.

 

Eggsy startles before recognising the person at the door. His face contorts in anger. “What the fuck are you doing-”

 

He doesn’t finish his question. His hand flies up to his neck and suddenly Eggsy is falling down to the ground.

 

“Eggsy!” Harry panics as he crosses the room quicker than he ever thought he could move. 

Eggsy’s eyes are closed. He rolls him over to his side, undoing the first few buttons of Eggsy’s polo shirt to keep his airways clear. He checks his pulse and breathes a sigh of relief to find that it’s still there.

 

He spots a small needle protruding from the side of Eggsy’s neck. Harry pulls it out and inspects it.

 

“Just an amnesia dart, Harry.”

 

Harry feels his fists instinctively ball up as he looks up at the intruder. He barely registers the amnesia dart snapping in his palm. “You said I had a week, Charlie.”

 

Charle shrugs and Harry wants to smash his smug face into the next decade. His brother raises a fist to Harry’s face. He can’t help but notice it’s the hand that his brother wears a watch on. Harry hears a faint ping and a sudden stabbing pain in his own neck.

 

He feels his vision begin to blur.

 

“I lied,” he hears Charlie say before blacking out.

 

\---

 

Harry hadn’t felt this hungover since the time Eggsy had somehow persuaded him to chug two steins of beer at an Oktoberfest themed party.

 

He groaned. His neck felt like he had slept on it on awkward angle. He reached over to his bed side table for his glasses, only to not find them.

 

His hand connected with a window.

 

Harry blinked, staring back at his faint bedraggled reflection just as reality slowly reached its metaphorical hand to slap him hard in the face.

 

He was in the back seat of car.

 

He had been drugged.

 

Eggsy had been-

 

“Took you long enough to wake up,“ says Charlie.

 

The feeling of rage was almost instantaneous. “What did you do to Eggsy?”

 

“Who?”

 

Harry had half a mind to clock him over the head, even if his brother was driving and even if it resulted in a terrible car accident. “Charlie, I swear, if you’ve-”

 

“Stop, this is embarrassing,” interrupts Charlie as he shrugs indifferently from the driver’s seat. “Your pleb will be fine. Won’t remember the last hour or so, but fine.”

 

The implications of that slowly sets in and Harry feels himself grinding his teeth.  He needs to calm down.  He takes a deep breath.  "Where are we going?”

 

“To see some tailors.”

 

—

 

Eggsy hadn’t felt this hungover since he chugged a stein of beer on Harry’s behalf to win a drinking game at the last Oktoberfest party.  

 

He groaned, peeling himself from off the floor and wondering just what state of mess the house was currently in.

 

He blinks, confused.  

 

He was at home.

 

“Christ, I must be tired,” he says to himself, pulling himself onto the nearby sofa.  He glances at the time.  Harry would be home soon.

 

He stares at the empty armchair across from him and waits.

 

\---

 

Harry is apparently about to embark on the most dangerous job interview of his life with eight other people.  There’s also a spiel about teamwork, though Harry can’t really admit to listening properly. He’s surrounded by concrete walls, with only a single large mirror adorning one wall.  He can’t see any cameras.

 

He stares at his reflection for a moment and wonders if this is how they’re being watched.

 

Harry mentally shakes himself and tries to focus on the task at hand.  He was given a body bag and a ‘next of kin’ form to fill out.  He honestly can’t believe just how insane his life has gotten in the last twenty-four hours.  

 

He just wishes he was home.

 

“Just scare tactics,” another man about his age says with a Scottish lilt, gesturing to the body bag.

 

Harry shrugs.

 

The man extends his hand out.  "Mark.“

 

Harry clumsily juggles the body bag and the form before firmly shaking his hand. "Harry.”

 

“You haven’t filled out your 'next of kin’ form yet,” he comments with a quick glance at Harry’s blank form.  "You need an emergency contact.“

 

His mind flashes to Eggsy, back to when he landed himself in the hospital ward.

 

" _ Put me down as your emergency contact _ ,” Eggsy’s voice says in his head.  

 

The memory is accompanied with what feels like a punch to the heart.  He shakes his head.  He wasn’t going to involve Eggsy in any of this.  Eggsy needed to forget him.

 

“I don’t have one.”

 

—

 

Harry wakes up to the cold shock of water.

 

He tries to get his bearings, watching as the eight other candidates panic as their room quickly fills with water.

 

Someone screams that they can get an oxygen supply if they head over to the bathrooms.  The water rises above their heads.

 

Harry’s just about to swim to the other candidates, when he sees a blurred figure struggling at the end of the room.  Mark, his brain supplies.  A blanket looks to have tied itself around his ankle, preventing him from swimming away.  He can’t help but wonder just how in hell Mark could have managed that as he hurriedly unknots the blanket.

 

He all-but-drags the Scotsman away and quickly realises that they may not make it to the bathrooms based on his own dwindling consciousness.

 

The mirror.

 

It’s closer than where the bathrooms are situated and Mark looks like he’s about to pass out.  Harry takes a gamble.

 

He punches at the mirror until it shatters.

 

The water in the room immediately begins to drain out.

 

—

 

Mark is being tended by what Harry assumes is a medic.  The remaining candidates sit on the floor, shivering and terrified.

 

The job interviewer congratulates a candidate for working out how to find an unlimited oxygen supply and congratulates Harry for working out that it was a two way mirror.  Harry can’t help but note that the interviewer still looks disappointed.  

 

“As far as I’m concerned, nearly every single one of you has failed.”

 

“Nearly?”  A candidate repeats.

 

The interviewer nods, just as Mark gets lifted onto a stretcher.  "Seems only Harry remembers the importance of teamwork.“

 

—

 

A year passes.

 

Harry doesn’t come home. Eggsy files a missing person’s report and listens to Harry’s voicemail every day until the line is cancelled.

 

A lot changes.  


	10. Chapter 10

“Galahad.”

 

Harry turns his head a little unsurely, still not accustomed to his relatively new title.  "Mark, was it?“

 

Mark nods, tapping at a Kingsman issued tablet resting in the crook of his arm.  "I’ll be your handler.  You’ll have to refer to me as Merlin when you’re in field.”

 

“Merlin,” he repeats.  He thinks back to the last time he saw Mark (Merlin, he mentally corrects) and can’t help but remember that the man before him nearly drowned during the first test of the Galahad trials a year ago.

 

His mind can’t help but pause at that, but he reminds himself that this is his life now.

 

“It’s good to see you in good health,” Harry says instead.

 

Merlin shrugs, not even looking up from his tablet.  "Wasn’t in any danger in the first place.“

 

Harry blinks.  "I beg your pardon?”

 

“The first trial,” Merlin clarifies.  "It was just a test to see if anyone remembered the spiel about teamwork.“

 

Harry supposed he should have felt angry by the deception, though he hadn’t felt much of anything in several months if he was being completely honest with himself.  The Galahad trials were difficult, but it had served as an effective distraction from his much missed old life.  

 

_ Eggsy would have made fun of my nostalgia. _

 

He could almost hear the accusatory “ _ you old man _ ” and he quickly forces the thought away by feigning casual indifference.

 

"What now?”  Harry asks.

 

“You’re being sent on a recon mission in South London,” says Merlin, still annoyingly looking at his tablet.  "It looks like a relatively minor drug turf war on the outside, but what we’re really interested in is the potential weapons smuggling.“

 

Harry has half a mind to snatch the tablet away and peruse the files himself.  He doesn’t.  "Who am I tailing?”

 

Merlin ends up handing the tablet to him to look at anyway.  "Dean Baker.“

 

\--- 

 

Harry side-glanced the sleeves of his oddly comfortable, but hideous yellow and black jacket  He was told it was a  _ Jeremy Scott  _ and that  _ Adidas  _ produced them.

 

He had no idea of what that meant, but apparently it was bulletproof.

 

“You’ll also need to wear these,” said Merlin as he handed over a pair of gaudy eye glasses. “Not quite the standard issue, though it’ll blend in with your outfit better.”

 

He thought he looked like a complete and utter cad.

 

Harry removed his own glasses for the larger, thicker-rimmed pair and put them on. They whirred to life almost instantly, as the glasses picked up on each and every minute detail of his surroundings. He blinked several times so his eyes could adjust.

 

Merlin chuckled slightly. “You look horrendous.”

 

“Perfect,” deadpanned Harry.

 

—

 

Harry leaned his forearms against the bar counter, trying his best to look like an inconspicuous pub-goer.

 

He didn’t feel comfortable in his clothes, but he hadn’t really felt comfortable about anything in the last year.

 

He pushed up his ridiculous glasses, waiting for the bartender to notice him as he subtly glanced at the pub’s interior. It wasn’t anything special.

 

A glass suddenly shatters, though the noise doesn’t faze him.

 

Harry glances up at the direction of the sound, staring directly at the bartender who dropped a pint glass.

 

The bartender who is none other than Eggsy Unwin.

 

_ Fuck _ .

 

\---

 

_ This was bad. _

 

Harry slumped his posture, leaning heavier against the bar counter, tilting his head at the spectacle of broken glass in front of him. He needed to look less like himself and not at all like he wanted to jump the counter to help.

 

“You right there, mate?” He says in a voice and accent unlike his own.

 

Eggsy almost doesn’t look like he buys it, but Harry presses on until he sees the flicker of doubt set in.

 

Eggsy seems to shake himself, sidestepping the broken glass and reaching for a broom. “Won’t be a moment, let me just get rid of this and I’ll be right with you.”

 

“A'right,” he replies where he would have otherwise have said not a worry. He glances about the bar nonchalantly, trying to keep his face obscured.

 

He can hear Eggsy sweeping the glass away. “What’re you after?  _ Guinness _ ?”

 

Harry would love a Guinness. “ _ Carling _ ,“ he says instead.

 

The sound of sweeping seems to stop briefly. “You sure?”

 

His glasses seem to switch on and he sees a message from Merlin flashing across the lenses.  

 

**_“Galahad, push up your glasses with your left hand if you require extraction.”_ **

 

Against all reason and rationale, Harry doesn’t move a muscle.

 

It had been a year since he had seen his one and potentially only friend.

 

And he couldn’t help but wonder what Eggsy was doing here, when he should have been completing his third year of university.

 

“ _ Carling _ it is,” Eggsy says to himself, snapping Harry out of his thoughts as the broken glass is thrown into the bin.

 

He can’t help but watch Eggsy as he pours him a beer. He looks thinner than he remembers and he’s sporting a dark blue baseball cap atop his head. Harry’s glasses automatically zoom in on an almost concealed graze on Eggsy’s forehead, shrouded in greeny-blue bruising.

 

**_“Approx. 3 days old. Potentially punched by a left-handed ring-wearer,”_ ** his glasses report. The glasses seem to scan further on the graze.  **_“Distinct pattern on the ring. Pattern saved for further investigation.”_ **

 

He deliberately stares down at the counter as Eggsy places the pint glass down in front of him.

His glasses immediately pick up on the bruising and cuts on Eggsy’s hands.  **_“Defensive bruising. Approx. 3-5 days old.”_ **

 

This information does not bode well with Harry.

 

He mutters  _ thanks  _ though it comes out more like  _ fanks  _ with the strange accent he’s decided to use and proceeds to take a large, but fake swig of beer.

 

The pub doors abruptly swing open as five men in similar attire to Harry’s march in. The particularly tall one approaches Eggsy with an ugly sneer.

 

“Where the fuck are my car keys?”

 

Eggsy shrugs nonchalantly, not in the slightest bit intimidated. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“You fucking-”

 

Eggsy cuts him off. “You been drinking all afternoon Poodle, you can’t be driving, fuckwit.”

 

_ Poodle _ , Harry repeats mentally. He had seen that name appear a few times while reading Dean Baker’s files. _ Might be useful. _ His glasses scan each of the men in the pub, picking up on the various concealed illegal weaponry. It takes quick photos of each them.

 

Harry is shoved aside when Poodle reaches across the bar counter and grabs at Eggsy’s bar apron. His beer sloshes messily over the sides of the glass as Eggsy is dragged forward.

 

A flash of gold catches Harry’s eye, as the middle finger of Poodle’s left hand reveals a distinctive ring. His glasses line up the pattern of the ring with the graze on Eggsy’s head and the pieces fall into place before his glasses can confirm it.

 

**_“Pattern match.”_ **

 

Harry’s grip on the pint glass tightens.

 

“Hey!” He shouts, pretending to be put out at the state of his spilt beer.

 

Poodle turns to look at him as Eggsy uses the momentary distraction to tear himself away.

 

Poodle isn’t much taller than Harry, but he uses his size as an intimidation attempt. It doesn’t work. “You best be moving the fuck on, mate.“

 

Harry can’t help but feel resigned. He’s about to do something incredibly stupid.

 

He flings the pint glass straight into Poodle’s forehead.

 

_ Oh well. _


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin is all but barking in his ear.  " _ Galahad _ !“

 

Harry dodges a punch.   He had already forgotten that Merlin could see and hear everything.  He needed to amend that.  His eyes sweep the room and the glasses pick up on the concealed weapons one last time.

 

_ One firearm, at least three knives.  _  He commits that to memory.

 

He doesn’t dodge the next punch.  He pre-emptively shuts his eyes as he feels a fist connect hard with his eye.

 

The ridiculous glasses break and fall uselessly to the ground.

 

_ Sorry Merlin. _

 

His head pounds as he picks himself from off the sticky bar floor and launches himself at one of the men. He punches him hard in the jaw. If he could actually still see, he could have sworn he saw teeth flying.  

 

Another man comes swinging at him, a knife in each hand.  Harry stays low and pivots to the side.  The man stabs one of his own men in the shoulder.  Harry takes advantage of the man’s shock and elbows him in the face. He rips the knife from out of the other man’s shoulder and hurls it into the calf of another man trying to get away. He hears a loud smack as the man falls spectacularly onto his face.

 

Poodle starts to wake up again.

 

_ Armed with a single firearm,  _ he reminds himself.   _ Probably 12 rounds. _

 

He could see Poodle shakily raise the gun up at him, but he was willing to gamble that Poodle would miss most of his shots after a blow to the head.  The jacket could probably handle any shots that actually landed.

 

His confidence in the situation came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Eggsy behind the bar counter, not far behind him.  He thinks of Eggsy and of Poodle’s terrible aim and -

 

The panic sets in.  

 

Harry jumps the bar counter, one arm wrapping around Eggsy’s torso and the other wrapping behind Eggsy’s head as he tackles him harmlessly to the ground.

 

He hears four shots fire above their heads in quick succession.

 

He sets his watch to ‘amnesia’ and waits for Poodle to show his busted face over the counter.

 

The dart fires straight into Poodle’s forehead and he falls back to the ground with an almost comical thump.  

 

The pub is finally quiet.

 

“Mate-”

 

Harry startles a little and Eggsy immediately raises his hands non-threateningly.  

 

Eggsy waits a moment before continuing.  "Not that I don’t appreciate the save, but could you get the fuck off?“

 

Harry blinks, confused, before coming to the embarrassing realisation that Eggsy is still bracketed between his thighs from having tackled him and that he is, essentially, straddling him.

 

Harry clumsily leaps to his feet and pulls Eggsy upright.  He can feel his face burning with complete and utter mortification.

 

“’I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his real accent and voice bleeding through.

  
“For destroying my workplace?”  Eggsy advances slightly and Harry suddenly feels all of two feet tall.  “Or for disappearing for a whole fucking year?”


	12. Chapter 12

To put it mildly, Harry felt terrible.  “Eggsy,” he began placatingly.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he tries.

 

“Oh yeah, that absolutely covers the last year, all is completely forgiven now.”

 

This conversation wasn’t going to end well end for Harry.  He sighs and steps away.

 

He can hear Eggsy following him.  “Where the fuck are you going now?”

 

Harry vaults the bar counter and grabs hold of the broom.  He gestures to the dishevelled state of the pub.  “If you’re going to yell at me, I might as well try and fix this mess while you do.”

 

Eggsy stares at him incredulously.  “You’re…. cleaning.”

 

“Well, I did destroy your workplace slightly,” he replies a little sheepishly as he sweeps away some glass.  

 

Eggsy seems to briefly consider the merits of letting Harry clean, before coming to a different realisation.  He gesticulates wildly.  “Wait, did you completely forget the part where I’m beyond pissed at you and the part where you explain why you disappeared on me?”

 

Harry knows he can’t really explain anything.  “I’m sorry about that too,” he says instead.

 

“Oh, fuck you.”

 

Harry crouches down and checks Poodle’s pulse, before rolling the unconscious man over onto his side to clean around him.  “If I could tell you, I would.”

 

“So what, a year goes by and this is all you’ve got?”

 

Harry can’t help but pointedly glance at the sorry state of the pub and at the five unconscious men on the floor.  He doesn’t have an answer any better than, “Basically.”

 

Eggsy snatches the broom away from him.  He looks somewhere between livid and murderous.  “I was so fucking scared for you, d’you know that?”

 

“Eggsy-”

 

“You never came back home and the police had no clue of how to find you.  No friends, no family.”  Eggsy throws the broom aside.  “I called every goddamned hospital in a 30 mile radius looking for you.  I called your stupid fucking phone everyday until the line disconnected.  I didn’t upgrade my shit-slow phone so I could re-read your texts.”

 

Harry couldn’t help but wince.  “Even the-”

 

“Especially the clusterfuck of messages of  _ I’ll miss you terribly _ , followed by the embarrassing  _ do you want anything from the grocery store _ ?”

 

“Right.  Those.”

 

“Yeah, those.”  Eggsy echoes quietly.  He sighs.  He looks tired.  He rubs at his eyes.  “Christ, I’m so fucking mad at you, but…”

 

Harry wishes he had the broom again to distract him from the slow-burn of endless guilt.  “But what?”

 

“I missed you too.” 

 

Harry didn’t deserve the pleasant way in which has heart melted slightly when Eggsy interrupts the tender moment with-

 

“You’re still a wanker though.”

 

Harry’s heart stops melting, but the air at least feels less tense. “Of course.”

 

“Seriously, you didn’t even say goodbye.”

 

He wants to explain that he had had every intention to. He wants to tell him that he had thought he had more time but his tosser of a brother knocked him out to send him to what was basically spy school. He wants to tell him that he’s developed a very specific, but dangerous set of skills in the past year.

 

He wants to tell him everything.

 

“I know,” he says instead.

 

Eggsy gives him a long calculating look and Harry thinks that he might get away with his answer for now. “So what are you doing here?” He raises an eyebrow. “Or is starting bar fights a new thing for you?”

 

It occurs to Harry that there’s probably a long list of bad ideas he would carry out if it kept Eggsy out of harm’s way. Harry shrugs. “Only on Tuesday’s.”

 

Eggsy snorts. “It’s Wednesday.”

 

“I was feeling a bit emotional.”

 

“And since when can you, you know…” Eggsy does a poor but endearing impression of Harry’s fighting style. “Do cool shit?”

 

Harry can’t help but be a tiny offended by that. “I wasn’t that bad before.”

 

“I’ve seen you fight an umbrella.” He pauses. “And lose.”

 

He crosses his arms defensively. “That only happened once and it was several umbrellas.”

 

Eggsy shakes his head but Harry can see the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Just help me clean up, you wanker.”

 

They set the bar right again.

 

And apart from the five unconscious men on the ground, Harry almost feels like it’s a year ago again and it’s just him and Eggsy cleaning their apartment.

 

\---

 

Eggsy puts up the ‘closed’ sign on the pub door, before reaching for the mop to give the pub floor one final clean.

 

Neither say anything for a time, until Eggsy breaks the silence with rapid-fire questions.

 

Harry wipes down the bar counter and tries to keep his cool.  He’s been tied to train tracks and interrogated before.  He feels slightly more prepared.

 

“What’s with the jacket?” asks Eggsy.

 

“I like it.”  He didn’t.  He thought it was an abomination.

 

“Has your hair always been a fluff-fuck of curls?”

 

“No.”  It actually was, but he had been painstakingly flattening it every morning since his teens.  He also thought it was an abomination.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“I wanted a pint of  _ Guinness _ .”

 

“That’s funny, you ordered a  _ Carling  _ before.”

 

Harry pauses in his movement.   _ Shit, so much for being prepared. _

 

Eggsy gives the pub floor one final mop before putting it away.  Harry tosses the wet kitchen cloth in the sink.  He discreetly sticks a small listening device under the bar counter. If Dean Baker’s men met up here often, he’d at least hear about it.

 

And if they so happened to so much as raise their voice at Eggsy again –

 

He hears a key slot into the pub door.  

 

It gently opens to reveal a blond woman in her early forties.  Something about the woman’s face gives him pause.  Harry frowns.  She looks impossibly familiar to him.

 

“Hey mum,” says Eggsy as he re-enters from the back room.

 

_ Oh _ .

 

She instantly brightens. “Hey babe, I saw the closed sign.” She steps into the pub and closes the door behind her.  “Thought I’d drop by and check up on…”  Her sentence trails off, as she immediately spots Poodle’s unconscious form to her left.

 

In retrospect, Harry really had no idea of how he passed the Galahad trials.

 

The woman’s bright demeanour immediately dimmed. She somehow had managed to cross the room in five terrifyingly quick strides.

 

Harry admittedly felt a teensy bit afraid. He raises his hands defensively. “Ma'am, I do apologise for -”

 

She completely bypasses him and points an accusatory finger at Eggsy.

 

“Gary Unwin, have you been picking fights again?”

 

Harry blinks.  _ Again _ ?

 

Eggsy’s unusually quick mind seemed to be failing him. “They were like that when I got here?”

 

She sighs, all tired and frustrated exasperation. “How many times have I told you -”

 

_ How many times has this happened exactly? _

 

“Mum, it’s fine, really.”

 

“Honestly babe, I know you think they’re just wankers-”

 

“They  _ are  _ wankers.”

 

“But they’re  _ armed wankers  _ with  _ foul tempers _ .” She chews the inside of her cheek and Harry hazards a guess that she’s worried. “They’ll tell Dean.”

 

_ Dean _ . Harry frowns.  _ Dean Baker? _

 

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “I can handle Dean-”

 

“No Eggsy, you can’t,” she interrupts with a shake of her head. She glances at the time briefly before looking back to her son. “He won’t be home for another hour, go get some of your things. Stay at an inn for a bit.” She reaches in for her purse. “Here, take some money-”

 

Eggsy gently pushes the offering away. “Keep it, spend it on Daisy.”

 

_ Who’s Daisy? _

 

The woman looks torn, but seems to agree after a time. She takes a deep breath and looks back to the unconscious men still lying on the ground. A huffed laugh escapes her. “You really did a number on them.” Her expression turns and she gives Eggsy a firm poke in the chest. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

 

To Harry’s mild amusement, Eggsy looks positively chastised.

 

He clears his throat and Eggsy’s mother finally seems to notice him.

 

“Oh, hello there,” she says with startled politeness.

 

“Hello,” he replies awkwardly.

 

She glances back and forth between Harry and Eggsy, before settling back on her son. “Old friend?”

 

It was an innocent question that Harry didn’t know how to answer himself.

 

Eggsy shook his head.  “Sorta.”

  
It was more than what Harry deserved.  


	13. Chapter 13

Harry half listens in to Eggsy and his mother’s logistical plans for the afternoon, but an odd metallic jigging sound keeps him distracted from listening properly. He glances around, trying to find the source of the sound.

 

A shadow appears behind the frosted glass of the pub door.

 

The door makes a faint clicking sound and Harry realises belatedly that the pub is being broken into.

 

Harry huffs under his breath.  "Christ, who breaks into a pub in broad daylight?“

 

It’s only then that he notices the silhouette behind the door is carrying a rather distinctive umbrella that he panics.  "Shit.”

 

“What?” hisses Eggsy.

 

“Nothing,” he replies quickly, as he not-so-subtly begins ushering both Unwins towards the opposite end of the pub.  "I don’t suppose there’s a back door somewhere?“

 

"There’s an exit in the storeroom.”

 

“Good, go that way,” says Harry.  "Keep your heads down and go straight home.“

 

Eggsy twists his way around and immediately sees the silhouette at the door, despite Harry continuing to push him away.  "Who is it?”

 

“It’s complicated,” explains Harry.  

 

“Always fucking is with you, innit?”

 

“Eggsy,” his mother begins chastisingly.

 

“No, he’s quite right, ma'am,” Harry admits sheepishly.  “I do apologise, but you both really ought to go before-“

 

They’re nearly in the storeroom when Harry hears the pub door swing open.  He all but pushes both Unwins into the room and shuts the door behind him quickly.

 

He steps back into the pub area.

 

An impeccably dressed man in his early fifties stands at the door.  The man pushes up his thick-rimmed glasses with the handle of his umbrella.

 

Harry automatically stands at attention.  "Arthur,“ he says in greeting.

 

Arthur glances about the state of the pub.  He looks disappointed.  "Son,” he replies.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry tries not to wilt where he stands under the scrutinising stare of his father.

 

“Can… I help you?” he asks after some time.

 

“Your glasses send out a distress signal to the nearest agent when broken,” he explains in a low voice that Harry can barely hear.

 

Harry winces.  "Right.  Well, everything is fine.“

 

Arthur pointedly raises an eyebrow at the five unconscious men lying on the floor.  "I thought your mission was purely for intel purposes.”

 

“I got bored,” he replies too quickly to really be confident.

 

Arthur shakes his head as he seems to carefully scan the room.  "And where is the bartender?“

 

Harry blinks.

 

"Pubs have bartenders,” he says in a slow patronising manner that forces Harry to try and put two and two together.  "Where is the bartender?“

 

Harry says nothing.  _  What do you know? _

 

Arthur sighs and makes a valiant attempt to not roll his eyes.  "Your little friend.  Where is he?”

 

“I don’t have friends.”

 

Arthur actually looks surprised, which was an odd change from his usual expression of disappointed and unimpressed.  "I believe you.  But where is he?“

 

"He’s gone.”

 

_ At least, I hope he is, _ thinks Harry.

 

He ignores the quiet voice in the back of his head that reminds him that Eggsy has never done what he’s asked ever.

 

“Did you question him?”

 

“He doesn’t know anything.”

 

“You didn’t question him then.”

 

_ Fuck _ .

 

“Because if you had questioned him, you would have learnt that he was the step-son of Dean Baker.”

 

_ Double fuck. _

 

He tries to stay calm and focuses instead on the one small detail that was bothering him.  "If you already knew that, then why send me here?“

 

"Bedivere mentioned your loyalty might waver.”

 

_ Charlie _ , his mind pieces together.  _  Fucking Charlie. _

 

“You’re off this mission, I’ll sort this mess out for you.”  Arthur glances down at his watch and fiddles with it.  "Try not to embarrass me in the meantime, hm?“

 

Harry frowns.  "What are you going to do?”

 

“I have a bartender to find, don’t I?”


	15. Chapter 15

“Sir?”

 

Arthur continues to briskly walk to the storeroom. “Don’t try stalling me.”

 

_ Dammit. _

 

Harry tries a different tactic and makes a grab for the umbrella on his father’s arm.

 

Arthur is annoyingly fast despite his age. He twists quickly, swinging the umbrella around with enough force to have cracked Harry’s jaw. Harry only just manages to duck in time.

 

Arthur points the end of the umbrella at his face, forcing Harry to take several steps back. He tries not to visibly swallow as he raises his hands defensively.  It’s useless at this point to lie, but he does it anyway. “There’s nobody in the storeroom.”

 

A glass shatters, the sound so very obviously coming from the storeroom.

 

Arthur gives him a bland look and Harry can’t help but stare at the storeroom door in dumbfounded disbelief at his bad luck.

 

He hears the familiar clicking sound of a gear being changed on the Kingsman rainmaker. He can’t be sure of what Arthur has changed it to, but he’s sure that even if it was set on ‘stun’ he’d wind up with a concussion and a broken nose at this range.

 

Arthur taps on the sides of his glasses, with a motion that Harry recognises as the recording functions being switched off.

 

The words ‘shit’s about to get real’ come to mind, as Harry vaults over the bar counter and Arthur pulls the trigger to the rainmaker.

 

The sound is explosive as a spray of bullets embed themselves into the pub wall. Harry stares at it, wide-eyed.

 

“You just tried to shoot me.”

 

“You were making things difficult,” Arthur replies nonchalantly, his aim unwavering from Harry’s vicinity as he inches closer towards the storeroom.

 

He gives a one shouldered shrug.  "Fair call,“ he admits as he leaps back over the counter with the intention of tackling Arthur to the ground.  

 

The action catches Arthur off-guard and Harry makes another grab for the rainmaker, this time successful. Arthur dodges to the side, moving further away from the storeroom as he reaches into his jacket for his standard Kingsman-issued firearm.

 

Harry aims the rainmaker at Arthur’s head and tries not to feel unnerved when Arthur merely scoffs at the gesture.

 

Arthur flicks the safety from off his firearm.  "Wrong end,” he says with a nod to the significantly less threatening umbrella handle aimed at his face.

 

Harry strikes the handle hard against Arthur’s head.

 

He falls to the ground, unconscious.

 

“Not really,” Harry says to himself.

 

—

 

Harry checks the storeroom and to his relief, Eggsy and his mother are no longer there.  He clears away the broken glass and removes the bullets lodged into the wall, cleaning up the damage as best as he can in a short span of time.

 

He had gotten Eggsy into enough trouble.  No sense in getting him fired too.

 

After half-throwing Arthur into a cab and paying the driver a significant amount to drive around until Arthur regained consciousness, Harry head straight for the cheap hotel he had initially been set up in to stake out Dean Baker.  

 

He sighs, stepping into the dingy hotel and making his way to his room.  He quickly gathers his things.

 

_ Might as well check out _ , he thinks.

 

He’s unsure of how to proceed after he checks out.  The Dean Baker mission was probably already re-assigned and he more than likely was about to get fired for knocking his boss unconscious.  

 

He walks down to the foyer; a backpack slung over one shoulder. He overhears a customer ask if there are any rooms available.

 

The receptionist shakes her head as a ‘no’ when Harry steps in to hand her his room key.

 

“I apologise for interrupting,” he begins, “But I’m actually just about to check out, so perhaps you can give my room to this gentleman here?”  

 

He glances to his side and does a double take.

 

It’s Eggsy.


	16. Chapter 16

“Uh…” says Harry as he stares at Eggsy dumbly.  

 

The receptionist glances back and forth at the two men before clearing her throat loudly.

 

Harry mentally shakes himself.  "Sorry. Am I able to check out early?“

 

The receptionist checks his key number and types a little on her computer before responding. "Yeah, but you’ll incur extra fees of-”

 

“That’s fine,” he interrupts.  "Just charge it to my account and make sure he gets the room.  Please.“

 

The receptionist gives him a curious look and slowly drawls out "oookay" as she updates the hotel records.  

 

With a few loud taps on her keyboard, she hands the key over to Eggsy.  "All done,” she says.

 

“Good,” replies Harry, mostly to himself.  "I’ve quite enjoyed my stay here, thank you for your service,” he adds with bland politeness as he bids a hasty retreat.

 

A hand on his forearm gently stops him and Harry flinches.

 

Eggsy immediately drops his hand.  "Sorry,“ he says automatically,

 

"No, I’m sorry,” Harry replies quickly.  "I’m sorry for…   _for everything._ ”

 

Eggsy doesn’t say anything and Harry desperately just wants to run away.

 

 _Again_? his conscience chides.

 

Eggsy pointedly doesn’t look at him, but he inevitably gives the tiniest nod that fills Harry with unexpected hope.

 

Maybe he could fix this.

 

The receptionist interrupts Harry’s thoughts as she clears her throat loudly once again.  

 

“Christ, get a room you two,” she says a little rudely.

 

Eggsy and Harry both turn to look at her with matching incredulous and embarrassed expressions. She continues to type idly onto her computer.

 

"Which’ll cost extra, by the way.”

 

\---

 

Harry flails a little. “Uh, we’re not, um-”

 

“He’s not my, er, we’re not, uh…” Eggsy stammers over the top of him.

 

The receptionist gives them both a one shouldered shrug.  "I don’t care.  You sharing a room or what?“

 

"No!” is the resounding embarrassed reply from the both of them.

  


She seems slightly annoyed and with an eye roll, heads back into what was probably a dingy back motel office, leaving the two old roommates alone.

 

Harry knows to take this as an opportunity to leave, but find that he is racking his brain for reasons to stay.

 

“I heard gunshots,“ Eggsy says abruptly.

 

“I cleaned up the pub as best as I could,” Harry replies quickly.  "Might need a bit of extra putty and paint though.  Sorry about that.“

 

Eggsy gives him an odd look. “I was actually going to ask if you were alright.”

 

“Oh,” he replies dumbly.  "Yes. I’m fine.”

 

“You’ve never been good at lying to me, you know that yeah?“

 

"I’m not particularly good at anything around you.”

 

“You in trouble?”

 

"No,” Harry lies.

 

“So the gunshots are normal?”

 

“Sometimes.”

 

“Harry-”

 

“It’s not important.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”  Eggsy shouts incredulously.  "How is that _not important_?“

 

Harry tries to be nonchalant.  "It’s a family matter.”

 

“What, your wanker brother make another appearance?”

 

“Father, actually.”

 

Eggsy looks a touch angry. “Why is your _father_ taking shots at you?”

 

“It’s-”

 

“Let me guess,” he interrupts, “ _Not important_?”

 

Harry should have made a strategic escape when he could.  

 

\---

 

Eggsy settles into his room and before Harry can even really think, he and Eggsy properly do something they haven’t done in over a year.

 

They go to a cafe, sit down and talk.  Or at least, attempt to.

 

It’s terribly awkward.  Eggsy is still mad, rightfully so.  Harry finds himself apologising for every second thing he says.  The waiter at the cafe senses the tense situation and wastes several minutes at the cash register before tentatively approaching the two to ask for their order.

 

“Earl grey with a dash of milk, honey on the side,” Eggsy says so easily that he doesn’t even realise he’s blurted out Harry’s order.  Harry gives him an odd look and Eggsy narrows his eyes back at him.  "What?“

 

"Nothing,” Harry replies hastily.  

 

The waiter scribbles down the order and looks to Harry expectantly.

 

“Strong skinny latte, no sugar,” he orders for Eggsy, who in turn gives him a similarly odd look.  "What?“ he asks, just to be smart-ass.  

 

"Nothing,” Eggsy mumbles under his breath.

 

The silence is awful and they say nothing when their drinks arrive.  Harry stirs the honey into his tea, when Eggsy finally breaks the silence.

 

“Can you tell me anything?  Or is this one of those, ‘if I told you, I’d have to kill you’ scenarios?”

 

It's an all too real scenario for Harry, when he thinks of the two body bags he was given on arrival at Kingsman’s training facility.  He tries not to think about it, sets the teaspoon aside and deftly changes the subject.  “What are you doing out of University?”

 

Eggsy crosses his arms over his chest.  “What do you care?”

 

“What are you doing out of University?” he asks again.

 

Eggsy sets his jaw.  “None of your fucking business.”

 

Harry sighs.  This was going nowhere.  He warms his hands against the teacup and weighs up his options for the moment.  He was going to have to tell Eggsy something if he wanted to salvage their waning friendship.  “I was knocked out, I think,” he begins slowly.  “I don’t remember much, only that I woke up in the back of a cab with a terrible headache.”  He huffs a humourless laugh to himself.  “Worse than the time you persuaded me to drink two steins at the Oktoberfest theme party.”

 

Eggsy’s crossed arms loosen a fraction and his tone is genuinely surprised when he asks, “Shit, really?”  

 

“Really,” Harry confirms.  He takes a sip of his tea.  “But I can’t tell you anything else.”

 

Eggsy falls quiet again and Harry tries not to fidget with his teacup.

 

“My mum re-married,” Eggsy says eventually.

 

 _To petty drug lord Dean Baker,_ Harry can’t help but think.  “Same boyfriend from last Christmas?”

 

“The one and only,” Eggsy replies with an annoyed eyeroll.  “I dropped out of uni when I found out mum was pregnant.”  He leans into his chair with a forced casual air as he drinks his coffee.  “You saw what his goons are like.  Can’t exactly leave mum and my little sister with them in the picture.”

 

Harry merely nods as he tries to silence the persistent voice in the back of his head saying _you should have been there for him.  You could have prevented this_.  He startles when his phone abruptly vibrates.  He checks his phone and can’t help but wince at the single message from Merlin.

 

**_Where are you?_ **

 

He quickly pockets his phone and makes a move for his bag.

 

“Leaving again?” asks Eggsy.  He doesn’t sound surprised, just resigned.

 

“Unfortunately,” Harry replies as he gathers up his bag.

 

Eggsy looks as though he still has a million questions to ask him.  He eventually settles for one.  “You going to say bye this time?”

 

“Not quite.”  Harry leaves cash at the table to cover the drinks.  “As you may be seeing me around for some time.”

 

Eggsy looks confused.  “And why would that be?”

 

_Because I’m going to fix everything._

 

Harry slings his bag over his shoulder.  “I’ll see you soon, Eggsy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, I finally got my shit together to post this properly! Thanks for reading, kudos-ing, commenting and bookmarking. Hugs for all!


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